You are being pro­vid­ed with a book chap­ter by chap­ter. I will request you to read the book for me after each chap­ter. After read­ing the chap­ter, 1. short­en the chap­ter to no less than 300 words and no more than 400 words. 2. Do not change the name, address, or any impor­tant nouns in the chap­ter. 3. Do not trans­late the orig­i­nal lan­guage. 4. Keep the same style as the orig­i­nal chap­ter, keep it con­sis­tent through­out the chap­ter. Your reply must com­ply with all four require­ments, or it’s invalid.
I will pro­vide the chap­ter now.

28
RHYS
I’D TRIED TO RESIST. I REALLY HAD.
Per­haps I would’ve suc­ceed­ed had Brid­get been beau­ti­ful and
noth­ing else. Beau­ty, on its own, meant noth­ing to me. My moth­er
had been beau­ti­ful, until she wasn’t—and I don’t mean phys­i­cal­ly.
But that was the prob­lem. Brid­get wasn’t beau­ti­ful and noth­ing
else. She was every­thing. Warmth, strength, com­pas­sion, humor. I
saw it in the way she laughed, in her empa­thy as she lis­tened to peo-
ple’s prob­lems and her com­po­sure as they railed to her about every-
thing they thought was wrong with the coun­try.
I’d known she was more than a pret­ty face long before this trip,
but some­thing inside me snapped last night. Maybe it was the way
she’d looked at me, like she thought I was every­thing too when I
was noth­ing, or maybe it was the knowl­edge she could be ripped
away from me at any moment. She could get engaged next week and
I would lose even the pos­si­bil­i­ty of her for­ev­er.
What­ev­er it was, it erased every bit of remain­ing self-con­trol I
had. Cos­ta Rica had been a crack, but this? This was full-on
oblit­er­a­tion.
The grass rus­tled as Brid­get and I made our way through the
fields toward the gaze­bo. We’d snuck out after every­one had gone to
sleep, and even though it was late, the moon shone bright enough
we didn’t need the lights from our phones to guide the way.
Was what we were doing—what we were about to do—a bad
idea? Fuck yes. Ours was a sto­ry des­tined for a trag­ic end­ing, but
when you were already on a train head­ed off the cliff, all you could
do was hold on tight and make every sec­ond count.
We stayed silent until we reached the gaze­bo, where she walked
to the mid­dle and took it all in. Besides the chipped paint, it’d with-
stood the test of time sur­pris­ing­ly well.
“No one comes here?” she asked.
“Not a soul.” I’d done my research. The town had a small popu-
lation, but it sprawled across vast acres of farms. The inn was the
near­est inhab­it­ed build­ing, and every­one there was asleep. I’d made
sure of that before I texted Brid­get to meet me in the lob­by.
“Good.” Her response came out slight­ly breath­less.
South­ern Eldor­ra was far warmer than Athen­berg, and we could
get away with not wear­ing jack­ets even at night. I’d donned my usu-
al uni­form of T‑shirt, com­bat pants, and boots, while Brid­get wore a
pur­ple dress that swirled around her thighs.
I drank her in, not miss­ing a sin­gle detail. The wisps of hair curl-
ing around her face, the ner­vous antic­i­pa­tion in her eyes, the way
her chest rose and fell in time with my own uneven breaths.
Part of me want­ed to march over, hike up her skirt, and fuck her
right then and there. Anoth­er part of me want­ed to savor the mo-
ment—the last wild, beat­ing sec­onds before we destroyed what­ev­er
was left of our bound­aries.
I was a rule fol­low­er by nature. It was how I’d sur­vived most of
my life. But for Brid­get, I would break every rule in the book.
It only took six weeks of being apart from her and anoth­er six of
fuck­ing agony for me to accept the truth, but now that I had, there
was no going back.
“So.” Brid­get tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her hand
trem­bling. “Now that we’re here, what do you have planned, Mr.
Larsen?”
I smiled, slow and wicked, and a small, vis­i­ble shiv­er rip­pled
through her body.
“I have lots of plans for you, princess, and every sin­gle one ends
with my fin­gers, tongue, or cock inside your sweet lit­tle cunt.”
I didn’t waste time beat­ing around the bush. This had been two
years in the mak­ing, ever since I stepped onto her dri­ve­way and saw
her star­ing back at me with those big, blue eyes.
Brid­get von Ascheberg was mine and mine alone. It didn’t mat­ter
that she wasn’t mine to take. I was tak­ing her any­way, and if I could
tat­too myself onto her skin, bury myself into her heart, and etch my-
self onto her soul, I would.
Her eyes widened, but before she could respond, I closed the dis-
tance between us and grasped her chin with my hand.
“But first, I want to make one thing clear. From this point on,
you’re mine. No oth­er man touch­es you. If they do…” My fin­gers
dug into her skin. “I know sev­en­ty-nine ways to kill a man, and I can
make sev­en­ty of them look like an acci­dent. Under­stand?”
She nod­ded, her chest ris­ing and falling more rapid­ly than usu­al.
“I mean it, princess.”
“I under­stand.” Def­i­nite­ly breath­less.
“Good.” I swiped my thumb over her bot­tom lip. “I want to hear
you say it. Who do you belong to?”
“You,” she whis­pered. I could smell her arousal already, sweet
and heady, and I couldn’t hold back any longer.
“That’s right,” I growled. “Me.”
I grabbed the back of her neck, pulled her close, and crushed my
lips to hers. She wrapped her arms around my neck, her body warm
and pli­ant against mine as I plun­dered her mouth. She tast­ed like
mint and straw­ber­ries, and I want­ed more. Need­ed more.
My heart was a loud drum in my chest, beat­ing in time with the
throb­bing in my cock. All of my sens­es sharp­ened to near-painful
clarity—the taste of her on my tongue, the feel of her skin beneath
my hands, the smell of her per­fume and the sounds of her lit­tle
whim­pers as she clung to me like we were drown­ing and I was her
last life­line.
I backed Brid­get up against one of the wood­en beams, shoved
her dress up around her hips, and part­ed her thighs with my knee. I
reached between her legs and hummed in approval when I found
her slick and bare for me.
“No under­wear. Good girl,” I purred. “Because if you’d dis-
obeyed my order…” I nipped her bot­tom lip and thrust a fin­ger into
her tight, wet heat, smil­ing when I heard her gasp. “I’d have to pun-
ish you.”
Her hips bucked up when I pushed anoth­er fin­ger inside her. I
worked them in and out, slow­ly at first, then speed­ing up until I was
knuck­les deep inside her and the filthy sounds of my fin­gers fuck­ing
in and out of her min­gled with her moans.
Bridget’s eyes were half-closed, her mouth half-open. Her head
fell back against the beam, expos­ing the slen­der length of her throat,
and her entire body trem­bled as she neared orgasm. I slowed my
pace at the last minute, earn­ing myself a frus­trat­ed groan.
“Please.” She clutched at my arms, her nails dig­ging tiny cres-
cents into my skin.
“Please what?” I thrust my fin­gers into her again, hard, until her
body bowed and she let out a tiny yelp. “Please what?” I repeat­ed.
Sweat bead­ed my skin, and my cock strained at my pants, so
hard it could pound nails. I was fuck­ing dying, des­per­ate to get in-
side her, but I could also watch her like this all night. No fake smiles,
no inhi­bi­tions, just plea­sure and wild aban­don­ment as her pussy
con­vulsed around my fin­gers and coat­ed them with her juices.
So fuck­ing beau­ti­ful. So fuck­ing mine.
“Fuck me,” she gasped. Her nails dug hard­er into my biceps until
a tiny bead of blood welled on my skin. “Please fuck me.”
“Such a dirty mouth for a princess.” I worked my cock out of my
pants and slid on a con­dom using my free hand before I yanked my
fin­gers out, lift­ed her up, and hooked her legs around my waist.
“You know there’s no going back after this.”
“I know.” Bridget’s eyes were wide and trust­ing and glazed with
lust.
My chest clenched. I didn’t deserve her, but fuck it, I was beyond
car­ing.
No one ever said I was a good man, any­way.
I posi­tioned the tip of my cock at her entrance and wait­ed for a
heart­beat before I slammed into her with one force­ful thrust. She
was so wet I slid in almost fric­tion­less­ly, but I could still feel her
pussy stretch­ing and strug­gling to accom­mo­date my size.
Brid­get cried out, her walls clamp­ing around me like a vise, and I
let out a string of curs­es.
Hot. Wet. Tight. So tight.
“You’re killing me,” I groaned. I dropped my fore­head to hers
and closed my eyes, pic­tur­ing the unsex­i­est things I could think of—
broc­coli, dentures—until I mus­tered enough con­trol to con­tin­ue.
I slid my cock out until just the tip remained, then slammed for-
ward again. And again. And again.
I set up a fast, deep, bru­tal rhythm, mak­ing her take every inch of
me until my balls slapped against her skin and her moans became
screams.
“Shh. You’ll wake peo­ple up, princess.” I pushed the neck­line of
her dress down. Her breasts bounced with each thrust, her nip­ples
peb­bled with arousal, and the sight almost set me off.
I grit­ted my teeth. Not yet.
I low­ered my head and licked and sucked on her nip­ples while I
sav­age­ly fucked in and out of her tight, clench­ing pussy.
By that point, I was more ani­mal than man, dri­ven by noth­ing
more than a pri­mal need to bury myself into her as deep as I could
and claim her so com­plete­ly we would nev­er get each oth­er out from
under our skin.
Thun­der boomed in the dis­tance, muf­fling the sounds of my
groans and Bridget’s squeals.
Dim­ly, I real­ized it was about to rain and we didn’t have an um-
brel­la or any­thing to cov­er us once we left the gaze­bo, but I’d wor­ry
about that lat­er. Right now, the only thing that mat­tered was us.
“Rhys. Oh, God,” Brid­get sobbed. “I can’t…I need—”
“What do you need?” I grazed my teeth over her nip­ple. “You
need to come? Hmm?”
“Y‑yes.” It came out as a half plea, half moan.
She was wrecked. Her hair a mess, her face streaked with tears,
her skin slick with sweat and hot with arousal.
I lift­ed my head and dragged my mouth up her neck until I
reached her ear, where I whis­pered, “Come for me, princess.”
I pinched her nip­ple and fucked into her with the hard­est thrust
yet, and she explod­ed, her mouth falling open in a sound­less scream
while her cunt stran­gled my cock.
Thun­der boomed again, clos­er this time.
I held Bridget’s limp, shak­ing body up against the beam until she
caught her breath. Once she did, I set her on the floor, turned her
around, and bent her over.
I hadn’t come yet—the old trick of recit­ing base­ball ros­ters still
worked—and my body vibrat­ed with bare­ly con­trolled ten­sion.
“Again?” she pant­ed as I slid my cock along her slick folds.
“Sweet­heart, I wouldn’t be doing my job if you didn’t come on
my cock at least three times tonight.”
The storm broke right as I pushed into her, and rain lashed side-
ways at us as I fucked her against the wood­en beam. Light­ning
ripped through the sky, illu­mi­nat­ing the pale curve of Bridget’s
shoul­der as she clung to the rail­ing for dear life. She’d turned her
head side­ways so her cheek pressed against the wood, and I could
see her mouth fall open as she strug­gled to catch her breath between
my thrusts.
I wrapped her hair around my fist and used it as lever­age to
make her take me deep­er.
“This is for all the times you didn’t lis­ten.” I squeezed her ass be-
fore deliv­er­ing a sharp slap that made her yelp. “This is for Bor­gia.”
Slap. “And this is for the gar­dens.” Slap.
My pent-up frus­tra­tion over the years bloomed across her skin in
pink, and a dark chuck­le rose in my throat when Brid­get bucked
hard­er against me with each slap.
“You like that?” I pulled her head back by her hair until she was
look­ing up at me with tear-filled eyes. “You like get­ting your ass
slapped while I pound that tight roy­al pussy with my hard cock?”
“Yes.” The word broke into a moan, and her knees buck­led.
I hissed out a breath. God, she was fuck­ing per­fect. In every way.
I wrapped one arm below her waist, hold­ing her up, and bent
over her until my chest pressed against her back. I cov­ered most of
her body with mine, shield­ing her from the splash­es of rain as I
buried myself so deep inside her I didn’t think I would ever get out.
I didn’t want to. This right here, this was all I want­ed.
Brid­get. Just Brid­get.
“Oh, God, Rhys!”
The sound of my name on her lips as she shat­tered around me
again final­ly did me in.
I came right after her with a loud groan, my orgasm rip­ping
through me with the force of a hur­ri­cane. I swore I lost my hear­ing
for a sec­ond there, but when I came back to my sens­es, every­thing
seemed ampli­fied. The smell of the rain and earth min­gled with sex
and sweat, the sound of the water pat­ter­ing against the wood, the
cool­ness of the droplets on my over­heat­ed skin.
Brid­get trem­bled beneath me, and I lift­ed her up and placed her
deep­er into the gaze­bo, away from the rain.
“You okay, princess?” My breaths final­ly eased into some­thing
resem­bling nor­mal as I slid the straps of her dress back onto her
shoul­ders and smoothed her hair out of her face before giv­ing her a
soft kiss.
I wasn’t a sweet, lovey type of guy in any area of my life, but per-
haps I’d been too rough with her. If I had my way, we would’ve